


The 12 Tropes of Christmas

by Nostalgia_101



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Romance, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 20:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8910037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nostalgia_101/pseuds/Nostalgia_101
Summary: Modern AU - When Emma and Killian realize their friends are hellbent on setting them up as a couple, they put their heads together and plot out a way to get their revenge.





	

Emma wrote ‘Operation: Our Friends Are Assholes*’ on the whiteboard, underlining it with a flourish, before turning to face Killian with a wry smile. “I was going to go with ‘Operation: Suck It Santa’ to make it festive but this one just felt more satisfying, y’know?”

“And less like an X-rated Christmas film, which is probably for the best,” Killian mused, slinging one arm over the back of Emma’s couch as he squinted at the board. “One question, Swan, is that an asterisk tacked on the end or a poorly executed snowflake? I thought you studied art at college,” he tsked.

“It’s an asterisk, van Gogh,” Emma retorted, carrying the whiteboard over to prop up against the coffee table. “I thought I better add in a footnote because _loveable idiot assholes who don’t know when to stop fucking scheming and trying to set us up on a date_ was too long.”

Killian chuckled as Emma plopped down beside him. “They’ve definitely been persistent recently.” He took a marker from the packet Emma offered him. “How many years _has_ it been now since we met?” he wondered. “Five?”

“Yep. At David and Mary Margaret’s ugly sweater party,” she replied, grinning at the memory. “I still can’t believe you won the best dressed trophy, you totally cheated.”

“Nonsense, I won fair and square.”

“You wrote ‘ugly sweater’ on a piece of paper and taped it to your shirt!” Emma protested with a laugh, shoving his arm. “It was a pity vote for the newbie and you know it.”

Killian grinned at her. “Your day will come, Swan. Although if you keep wearing the same sweater with the wrestler on it as you’ve done the past five years that day will be never.”

“My Dwayne Johnson ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ sweater is a classic and you know it,” Emma replied with a haughty swish of her blonde ponytail. “And besides it has…”

“Sentimental value because Dave loaned it to you for your first Christmas with the Nolans and you never gave it back, I know,” he finished with a smile, giving her a shrug when she looked at him in surprise. “I remember important things, Swan, I’m not a complete reprobate.”

She clamped her lips down around a smile, shaking her head. “No just a human thesaurus.” 

“Don’t sell yourself short, love,” he replied, waving the marker at her. “Your ostentatious vernacular was quite apparent earlier with your resplendent use of ‘assholes’,” he winked.

“Listen, nerd,” Emma replied with a withering smirk, barely resisting the urge to pin him down and draw something obscene on his forehead as payback. “We need to come up with a solid plan to shut down this matchmaking extravaganza once and for all before they try out any more tropes on us.”

“I fear Mary Margaret and her addiction to the Hallmark channel may just best us yet,” Killian mused.

Emma snorted. “Actually you can blame David for getting her hooked on that. My brother is the biggest cheeseball around, but he’d kill me if anyone knew.” She put up her hand to whisper behind it. “He owns a lot of them on DVD too.”

“ _Really_ ,” said Killian, breaking into a sly grin. “It’s always handy to have something new in the blackmail arsenal.”

“Focus, Killian,” Emma laughed, jerking her thumb at the whiteboard. “Ever since we hit December they’ve amped up their plotting like cracked-out romance elves, so let’s go over what we know.” She leaned forward to start a list, uncapping her marker. “Number one: Starbucks shenanigans.” Emma frowned when Killian bumped her hand out of the way and drew a squiggle next to her writing. “What the hell is that?”

“An asterisk apparently,” Killian replied innocently.

“You are _so_ getting a dick drawn on your forehead when we’re done.”

* * *

_Emma was nearing hour three of sitting outside her mark’s apartment block in her cold car, weighing up the options of either catching pneumonia or claiming her bail bond’s check as a human popsicle, when a knock on the passenger-side window scared the shit out of her._

_She whipped her head around to see Killian waving at her with a grin, holding up a tray with two takeaway coffees. Leaning over the seats to pop up the lock, Emma barely waited for him to get settled before yanking one of the cups out and warming her hands around it with a happy sigh._

_“And what if they were both for me, hmm?” Killian pretended to chide her as he set the tray on his lap and lifted the strap of his satchel from around his shoulder._

_“I’d say when did you turn into Lorelai Gilmore and if so, did you also bring Pop Tarts?” Emma replied with an angelic smile and fluttering of her eyelashes._

_Shaking his head fondly, Killian opened his satchel to retrieve a paper bag. “Will a bear claw do?”_

_“Did I say Pop Tarts? I don’t know her,” Emma hastily replied, gratefully accepting the pastry. She broke off a chunk and crammed it into her mouth, offering Killian a chipmunk-cheek-stuffed grin when she heard him snort at her. “Owdunomunky?” she mumbled around a mouthful._

_“OK, that was… Something about a monkey?” Killian guessed, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ll opt for ‘speak no evil’ so you don’t spray anymore crumbs on me.”_

_Emma rolled her eyes, swallowing her food down with a gulp of her drink. “I said how did you know I’m hungry?”_

_“You’re always hungry,” Killian quipped, grinning when she went to swat his shoulder only to realize her hands were full. “Plus Ruby said you’d been chatting and that you were in need of sustenance, so I said I’d stop by.”_

_“Huh, I don’t remember saying that,” said Emma, taking another, smaller, bite of pastry and setting her cup in the holder to scroll through her Facebook message chain with Ruby. “Although there’s like a thousand messages in here so I probably did complain about starving somewhere along the way.” She glanced at Killian, pretending to swoon. “My hero.”_

_Killian doffed his imaginary cap. “Anything for you, milady.” They smiled at one another, Killian taking another mouthful of coffee. “I can stay and keep you company for a while if you like? Or if I’m in the way I can…”_

_“No, stay,” Emma blurted out, throwing in a shrug to cover her eagerness. “I mean, on the condition you have more food in that bag of course.” She broke into a laugh when Killian gave her a knowing smile, putting his hand into the satchel to bring out another bear claw._

* * *

Emma waved her phone in the air triumphantly. “Definitely nothing in my messages with Ruby about needing food that day,” she said. “I swear that girl can sniff out a devious opportunity a mile away.”

Killian scooped up a handful of pretzels from the bowl on the table and popped a few into his mouth. “On the bright side you managed to detain your target despite the circumstances.”

“Do you mean the part where you decided to torment me with terrible Christmas jokes?” said Emma, toeing off her boots to curl her legs up underneath herself on the couch. “Because yeah, that was rough.”

“No, I meant surviving the evening in the refrigerator you call an automobile,” said Killian, noting with a smile that Emma was wearing a familiar pair of candy cane socks. “Does the heating ever work in that contraption?”

“Give the Bug a break, she’s an old lady,” Emma replied, swiping a pretzel from his hand. As she bit into it her eyes lit up with a sudden thought. “Hey, speaking of fixing things, though, we can add your IKEA disaster to the list.”

Killian pointed at her in agreement. “Right you are, Swan. That had our friends’ grubby fingerprints all over it.” He reached across to the whiteboard to write ‘DIY – Do It Yuleself’ in his neat cursive, chuckling when he heard Emma let out a groan.

“Please, for the love of Santa, no more Christmas puns,” she whined.

“Last one I promise,” Killian replied, holding up three fingers in a Scout’s honor. His lips twitched with a smirk. “There’s no Claus for alarm.”

“That’s two dick drawings on your forehead and counting now, buddy.”

* * *

_Emma stood with her hands on her hips and head tilted to the side, surveying the clusterfuck of screws and wooden slats on Killian’s living room floor. “Why did you think you could start this without supervision?”_

_Killian rolled his eyes as he returned from the kitchen with two beers. “Because I’m not a three-year-old child?”_

_“Except joke’s on you because a three-year-old would have had this built by now,” Emma retorted, taking the bottle he was offering. “In fact, why don’t we call up David and Mary Margaret and ask them to bring Leo over? I’m sure my nephew could put his Lego skills to good use.”_

_“I’ve no doubt he could,” said Killian, tucking his beer into the crook of his arm so he could check the message that had just pinged on his phone. “Will says he’s going to be late getting home to help,” Killian read out to Emma. “But he’ll make sure to bring an extinguisher back with him after I inevitably end up setting the new shelving on fire out of frustration,” he scoffed, shoving the phone back in his jeans pocket. “Bloody wanker.”_

_Emma snorted into her beer, not bothering to disguise her smirk. “Your ‘wanker’ roommate has a point, Killian. For a guy who works on boats as a job you’re pretty crappy on the handyman front at anything else.”_

_“Boats make sense,” Killian protested, setting his drink on the floor to pick up the instructions for the chestnut-colored bookcase. “They’re an absolute marvel. This infernal thing, however, is the work of the devil himself.”_

_“Nuh-uh, not today, Satan,” Emma smiled, plucking the sheet from his hand. “That’s why I’m here. David gave me the heads up and I wanted to make sure you didn’t have another furniture-related meltdown like last year.”_

_“It wasn’t a meltdown,” Killian said, lifting his chin in defiance. “It was a brief foray into a minor moment of annoyance.”_

_Emma stared at him, raising an eyebrow. “You sent me a photo of yourself face planted on the floor next to a half-built Frankenstein’s monster TV cabinet and all the leftover screws arranged to spell out the words ‘FUCK IT’.”_

_“Exactly,” Killian nodded. “I was only slightly inconvenienced.”_

_“You’re a dramatic idiot.” Emma took a long pull of beer before placing it next to Killian’s on the floor and surveying the instructions. “Make yourself useful and hold stuff for me while I build your damn bookshelf.”_

_“My dashing hero,” Killian quipped, chuckling when Emma flipped him the bird._

_Unscrewing two pieces of wood from Killian’s first disastrous attempt, Emma gave Killian a thoughtful look. “What’s with the new shelf anyway when you already have that awesome antique one?” she asked. “Early Christmas present to yourself?”_

_“Partly,” said Killian, scratching behind his ear. “I, uh, just needed an extra spot of cash and sold the old one on eBay. I wasn’t particularly attached to it so it’s of no bother.”_

_“I could always loan you some money if you’re really strapped for it?” Emma said, her brow furrowed in concern. “I mean I have like two dollars to my name, but just say the word and they’re your dollars,” she added with a cheesy grin._

_Killian tugged at the end of her braid, smiling fondly. “I’ll be OK, Swan, but thank you all the same.”_

_Emma considered him for a moment longer before nodding. “That’s cool,” she said, pulling the two planks apart in her hands. “I mean if we’re being real here you should be the one giving me money,” she teased. “I think I’ve put together half this shit in your apartment.”_

_“And for that you have my eternal gratitude.”_

_“I’d also really like a medal. Maybe something with sparkles.”_

_“Consider it done.”_

* * *

“I’m still unsure of where that leftover screw was supposed to go, but the bookcase hasn’t toppled over yet so, cheers,” said Killian, giving her salute.

“There’s always one left at the end, it’s like a tradition,” said Emma, patting him on the knee. She gathered the snack bowl and the markers and stood up. “Come on, grab the board. These flashbacks are making me thirsty.”

“Funny, I surmised the pretzels would have.”

“Just shut up and follow me, Seinfeld.”

Emma traipsed into the kitchen and set about making hot cocoa while Killian propped the whiteboard up on the table against the wall. He took it upon himself to rummage through the second drawer to the left of the stove for the container of marshmallows he knew would be in there – among other sugary assortments.

“You know, Swan, most people just have a junk drawer,” he teased, poking around the half-open packets of Red Vines, M&Ms and Skittles to find what he was after. “Not a junk _food_ drawer.”

“Most people would be idiots then,” she replied, grabbing two mugs from the drying rack. “Why the hell would I want a drawer full of loose buttons and receipts from 2007 when this is so much tastier?”

Killian gave her a solemn nod of his head. “Sound logic as always, love.” He waited for her to fill up the mugs and sprinkle cinnamon on top before adding the marshmallows: two in his, four in hers. “Three pink and one white like the poster-child for diabetes you are.”

Emma winked at him, clinking her mug against his before taking a seat at the table. “I just remembered another thing to add to the list,” she said, blowing into her drink. “Making all those Christmas cookies for Mary Margaret’s school bake sale last weekend.”

“Ahh, yes,” Killian chuckled into his mug. “We really should have been more savvy when her and Dave kept ducking out to ‘check on’ the youngster.”

“We were too busy being pissed off they kept ditching us with all the baking, remember?” said Emma, taking a marker from the table and writing ‘toss your cookies’ on the list. “Get it?” she said encouragingly, noting Killian’s blank look. “Because we’re _sick_ of them interfering?”

“And they always say your brother’s the charming one of the family.”

* * *

_“Are you kidding me?” Emma muttered as David and Mary Margaret made another hasty getaway upstairs. She slammed the Christmas tree-shaped cookie cutter into the dough she’d rolled out onto the bench top. “That’s the fourth time they’ve claimed to hear Leo call out. They’re not usually this parentally extreme.”_

_Killian had his tongue poking out between his teeth in concentration as he made frosting adornments on a batch of gingerbread people. “They’re also not usually baking for what appears to be three million children who have obviously not eaten for a year.” He shook his head at the baskets-upon-baskets of cookies and treats placed around the Nolan’s kitchen. “Face it, Swan, we’re free elf laborers to Mr. and Mrs. Claus.”_

_“Bah humbug,” she grumbled, snatching one of the sugar cookies from a pile and biting into it. “May as well reap the benefits before Mrs. Claus gets back and cracks her tinsel whip.” Emma glanced over at Killian’s handiwork, smirking at the precision of each of his movements._

_“Oi, sod off,” Killian jokingly warned, sensing Emma sauntering around the bench towards him. “I know what you’re up to.”_

_“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emma claimed, holding her hand over her heart. “I’m just admiring the goods… And the gingerbread,” she grinned, nudging the ticklish spot on the side of his stomach with her elbow._

_Killian snorted, lifting his head to find her looking at him, her eyes crinkling in amusement. “What? No ‘wink, wink’ as well? I’m disappointed.”_

_“Not as disappointed as you’re gonna be when I do this…” she said, clamping her hand over his to squirt out a large glob of red frosting from the bottle. Emma let out an evil chuckle at the scandalized look on his face. “Much better.”_

_“Better?” he sputtered, swatting her hand away. “It’s a gingerbread homicide is what it is!”_

_“Oh my god, you’re right,” Emma gasped, taking her phone out of her jeans pocket. She pretended to press the numbers on screen and held the phone to her ear. “Hello 911? We’ve just found a ginger-dead man, help!”_

_“I knew you were listening to my Christmas puns the other week, Swan,” Killian said, raising an eyebrow at her. “There’s just one problem.”_

_“And what would that be?” Emma smirked._

_Before she knew what was happening, Killian lifted his arm and aimed the frosting onto Emma’s nose, laughing at her yelp of outrage. “Now it’s a double homicide!” He darted around the bench with a gleeful cackle when she went to lunge at him. “Come now, Rudolph, don’t you want to guide the sleigh tonight?”_

_“No I don’t, asshole,” Emma said with a laugh, changing her direction to catch him off-guard. “Asshole’s one of Santa’s lesser-known reindeer by the way. He choked on a carrot and died.”_

_“Bloody hell, bringer of festive cheer you are, aren’t… oomph!” Killian felt his back slam up against the fridge door as Emma barreled into him with a devious grin. He poked his tongue into the side of his cheek, eyes dancing with mirth, as Emma slowly brought her face up to his and wiped the tip of her nose across his cheek._

_She drew back to admire the streak of red on his skin, her hands still locked around his wrists to pin him down. “Much better,” Emma smiled, feeling his chuckle rumble through her own chest with the way they were pressed together._

_They startled when they heard a crash behind them and a muttered curse, quickly springing apart to find Mary Margaret and David frozen near the doorway, a basket of broken cookies scattered across the floorboards._

_“Oopsie-daisy,” Mary Margaret said with a smile, giving David a small kick on the back of the leg to jolt him out of his one-man mannequin challenge. “How clumsy of us. Good thing we’ve got loads more where they came from!”_

_“Yeah, you’re doing a great job, guys,” David said, finding his voice. “Maybe we should just let you two bake the rest!” he joked, bending down to help his wife scoop up the food they’d just destroyed._

_Emma felt her eye twitch as she shared a look with Killian. “Hello, 911?” she muttered under her breath to him. “I’d like to report another double homicide…”_

* * *

“I think I have some of those cookies stashed away somewhere if you want one?” said Emma, licking a blob of melted marshmallow from the corner of her mouth.

“Did you steal them, Swan?” he asked, huffing out a laugh at her shrug of indifference. “Will no one think of the children?” he said with a cluck of his tongue.

“Trust me, those ankle-biters had more than enough sugar to go ‘round. I did their parents a favor.” Emma smiled indulgently at Killian as she took a sip of her cocoa. “Besides, I saw you pocket a few gingerbread before we left.”

The tips of Killian’s ears turned pink as he smirked at her. “I was just preserving the evidence for the police.”

“Oh, of course,” Emma laughed, twirling a marker between her fingers as she scanned the list they had so far on the board. “Guess we better add the light bulb moment that finally tipped us off to their plotting.”

“Aye, that very subtle moment that took a lot of sleuthing on our part as I recall,” Killian nodded, holding out his hand for the pen. “May I do the honors?”

“You may.”

* * *

_Emma and Killian stared at the intimate two-person table adorned with a candle and single red rose that the host had shown them to, while the resident acoustic guitarist at One Hundred and One Crustacean’s seafood restaurant serenaded everyone with slow jams. Both of their phones chimed at the same time, and both of them let out exasperated sighs at the messages._

_“What a surprise, the Nolans have an ‘emergency’ and can’t make the friendly, not-at-all suspicious group dinner,” Emma said in a monotone._

_“I wonder if it’s the same emergency that suddenly has Robin and Regina waylaid?” Killian drily replied. They winced at one another when the opening strums of My Heart Will Go On began from the musician’s corner._

_“Burgers and onion rings at Granny’s?” Emma suggested, already halfway across the room towards the exit._

_“God yes,” said Killian, hastily following behind._

* * *

Killian underlined ‘Dinner Denouement’ on the whiteboard and put the cap back on the marker, noting the arch of Emma’s eyebrow. “What? Too much?”

“I’m just wondering where the seafood puns are,” Emma replied.

“I know you’re not a fan of my punning, Swan. I didn’t want to be shellfish.” He laughed when a pretzel bounced off his head. “I deserved that.”

Emma curled her hands around her mug and slouched down in the chair to stretch her legs out, casually resting them on Killian’s lap under the table. “So how do you propose we stop this never-ending parade of rom-com moments?” She flinched. “Jesus, I shouldn’t even put the word ‘propose’ out there in the universe. I’m scared they’ll hear us.”

“And mind control us into wedding vows?” he chuckled, giving her socked foot a squeeze. “I’m sure we’ll be safe, love. Besides, I plan on proposing to you via flash mob where we dance the Macarena whilst I wear that flattering green swimsuit from the Borat movie.” Killian pretended to take offence at Emma’s loud cackling. “What? Not romantic enough for you?” 

“Oh, _completely_ romantic,” Emma responded, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Holy shit, the visuals. Throw in, like, a person in a swan costume to present the ring and you’ll be set.” Her cheeks tinged with a hint of crimson as she ducked her head. “Or any stupid costume, whatever,” she added with a muted grin, inspecting some lint on her sweater.

Killian smiled affectionately, giving her foot a gentle scratch so she’d look up again. “I was thinking more along the lines of Barney the dinosaur,” he said seriously. “This is a classy proposal after all.” His smile widened when Emma half-heartedly rolled her eyes at him. 

“You should work for the Hallmark channel as a producer, you’d be rich,” Emma said, pausing with her cocoa mid-way to her mouth when Killian widened his eyes at her. “What’s with the look?”

“That’s the crux of the plan, Swan!” he said gleefully.

“Hallmark?” she replied, screwing up her nose.

“No, _blackmail_ ,” Killian answered, waggling his eyebrows at her. “As in who is the person we can blackmail over their love of the Hallmark channel and force them into being a double agent, telling us of all our friends’ plans in advance?”

Emma’s lips split into a grin of Machiavellian proportions. “David,” she snickered.

Killian lifted his hand for a high five. “Let the operation commence,” he smirked.

* * *

The following evening Emma met Killian at The Rabbit Hole a short while before their friends were supposed to arrive for drinks so they could go over their strategy (“They’re actually coming this time, correct?” – “We’ve got my brother hanging by the jingle bells, of course they are!”).

“Oh, they’re good I’ll give them that,” Emma murmured, huddled next to Killian in the booth as they both read his text message exchange with David. “Two birds with one sneaky stone – making sure we get one another for the gift exchange.”

“And trying to set us up on dates with other people so we’ll be jealous,” Killian finished, huffing out a laugh. “Do they even know us?” he asked, downing a gulp of his beer while taking a covert glance around the bar in the hopes that Jefferson and his insufferable Sebastian Stan-adjacent face wasn’t working that night.

“I know, right. It’s so stupid,” Emma agreed with a chuckle, casually draping her elbow across the table to lean on her arm… and block Killian’s view of where Tink was setting up with her band near the stage. “I think we should play up the opposite of what they’re expecting. Be really enthusiastic about it.”

Killian nodded. “Perhaps even make a show of going on that online dating app all the young people are on these days. Pretend to pick the dates out ourselves?”

“The _young people_ , he says,” Emma mocked, giving his shoulder a punch. “Nice going, gramps. What are you, like five hundred?”

“Three hundred, thank you,” Killian replied with a withering smile, bringing up the app store on his iPhone. “Suppose we’ll need to download the blasted thing first,” he said, frowning at the onslaught of options before sliding it over for Emma to take care of.

“Oh, I already have it,” Emma said offhandedly, biting back a laugh when she heard Killian choke on his beer. “What?” she smirked. “It’s just fun to see all the profiles. I’ve never actually done anything about it.”

“So that delightful chap who claimed to own a coffee and bagel cart wasn’t from the deep depths of the dark web then?” Killian said innocently, taking another, careful, sip of beer.

Emma grimaced at him. “Neal? Ugh, no. I _wish_ I could’ve swiped left on him. That’s three months of my life and a stolen watch I’ll never get back.” She finished downloading the app and slid the phone back to Killian, narrowing her eyes. “Since we’re bringing up the ghosts of Christmas past, though, how about we reminisce over that _delightful_ woman who nicknamed your junk ‘the dragon’?”

“Ahh, yes, Lily,” Killian said, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. “Also three months and a shred of dignity I’ll never get back.” He picked up his phone and pretended to look at it with great interest. “Job well done, thank you, Swan.”

She licked her bottom lip, shaking her head with a wry smile. “No problem, Casanova.” Emma opened her purse to retrieve her phone and entered in the passcode. “So that’s the dates sorted. How do you want to deal with the Secret Santa part of the evening?”

Killian fiddled with the label on his beer bottle. “If it’s all right with you, love, I wouldn’t mind if we got each other,” he shrugged one shoulder, offering her a smile.

Emma smiled back at him, cocking her head to the side. “You already bought me something ridiculous and you don’t want it to go to waste do you?” she said, maneuvering her leg up from under the table to rest on the seat. She slid up the end of her jeans to show him the ‘frostbite’ vampire snowman socks she had on under her boots. “I don’t think anything’s going to beat these and the Citizen Cane ones from last year, but try your best, Jones.”

Returning her smile, Killian lightly traced his finger over a snowman’s head peeking out from the top of her shoe. “I’m always up for a challenge,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze and finding a spark of curiosity there. Hearing Emma’s phone chime, Killian gently tugged the denim back down on her leg and gave it a pat before she lowered it to the ground.

“It’s David,” said Emma, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “He says they’re almost here.” She gave Killian a quick smile. “Guess we should get started on the plan,” she said, opening the app on her phone and gesturing for him to sit closer so they could both see the screen. “You ready to do some acting?”

He settled in beside her with a brief nod. “Aye.”

* * *

Emma answered a knock at her apartment door a few days later, slapping her hands to her cheeks in her best Home Alone impersonation. “Jones? What the hell brings you around here today?” she exclaimed, giving him a wink as he stepped inside.

Smirking at her theatrics, Killian shrugged off his coat and handed Emma the bag of takeaway food he’d brought over from Granny’s. “Didn’t Ruby tell you, Swan? She invited me over to help decorate the tree,” he said energetically before lowering his voice. “Where is our little Christmas Cupid anyway? Carving K.J. loves E.S. into the tree stump?”

“No, she’s in the kitchen making eggnog,” Emma murmured, waiting for him fold his coat neatly over the back of an armchair. “She’s put so much rum in it that even a pirate would be like, _yo ho ho and a bottle of what the fuck_?” Emma grimaced.

“Arr, tis a good thing me liver’s in tip top shape then, me heartie,” Killian replied in a soft growl, swinging his arm back and forth with his fist clenched. “Shiver me timbers… Walk the plank…” He paused for a moment before dropping his arm and resuming his normal voice. “Nope, that’s it I’m afraid.”

Emma’s mouth curled into a smirk. “You’re a disgrace to fake pirates everywhere, Captain. And to think you want to sail your own ship one day,” she said, leading them through the room. “Kitchen, ahoy!”

Ruby glanced up from her rum-laced mess at the bench, grinning broadly at them when they appeared. “Killian, hey! You’re just in time to get day drunk with us!” She plonked a cinnamon stick into one of the glasses, thrusting the almost overflowing drink into his hand. “My gift to you.”

“Alcohol poisoning, how generous,” Killian said, offering her a small bow of thanks.

“So, Rubes,” Emma began conversationally, collecting three plates from the cupboard. “I thought we were having a girls day today – what’s with the Y chromosome over here?” She smiled at Killian’s scoff of mock-annoyance.

“Have you not seen this man’s Instagram photos lately?” said Ruby, sliding a drink Emma’s way. “His Christmas tree looks like it belongs in the anal-retentive decorating hall of fame. Everything’s so well hung it’s like Santa was holding a gun to his head.” Ruby stole an onion ring from one of the plates, frowning when Emma and Killian stared at her. “What?”

“You said ‘well hung’ and didn’t even giggle,” Emma pointed out.

“Our little girl’s growing up,” said Killian, pretending to wipe away a lone tear.

Ruby rolled her eyes as she poured herself some eggnog. “ _My point is_ ,” she continued, ignoring their laughter, “your sad little tree needs all the help it can get and Killian’s the man for the job.”

“Hey! My tree is not sad,” Emma protested, pointing a fry accusingly towards her friend. “It just needs a bit of love.”

“And more than two branches,” Ruby retorted. “Maybe if you didn’t wait until mid-December to pick one out you’d get a nice miniature version of the Rockefeller one you’re always gagging over.” 

“It’s like New York threw up Christmas everywhere – it’s amazing,” Emma sighed, tipping out the rest of the food onto the plates. “My tree is fine, though, shut up. And more importantly it was cheap, which is what baby Jesus would have wanted.”

“Amen,” Killian chimed in. “Let’s get started shall we? Those lights won’t untangle themselves,” he stated, balancing a plate of food on one arm and picking up his glass of festive death with the other. “Don’t give me that insulted look, Swan, I know you didn’t wrap them around a coat hanger like I told you to last year.”

Half an hour into the decorating spree there was another knock at the front door while Ruby was in the bathroom. Emma narrowed her eyes in confusion at Killian, who only shrugged in return. Brushing strands of tinsel from her yoga pants, Emma got up to see who it was, returning a few moments later with a bunch of red and white roses interspersed with candy canes. “This your doing?” she murmured in bemusement, as they heard the bathroom door open.

“Perhaps,” Killian responded with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“Did I just hear the… holy shit, who sent you flowers?!” Ruby gaped, rushing over to Emma to inspect the bouquet. “Is there a card?”

Emma nodded, handing Ruby the gift to hold while she yanked the note from the middle. “Dear Emma,” she read, “I had fun the other night. Ho-ho-hope we can do it again soon. Graham.”

“ _Graham_?” Ruby said in a near-shriek, clutching onto Emma’s arm. “As in the Graham you said you spoke to online the other night? When did you go out? Where did you go?” She spun around to Killian. “Did you know about this?”

“Of course,” Killian grinned, taking the bouquet from her to rummage around for the best-looking candy cane. “Who do you think drove Emma to meet him?”

Ruby’s jaw dropped down to the basement level. “You _drove_? But I… What about…” she sputtered, swiveling her head back and forth between Killian and Emma like she was short circuiting before taking a deep breath and holding up a well-manicured nail. “We need more eggnog.”

Emma and Killian held on to their poker faces until Ruby was clear of the room before breaking into quiet, body-shuddering laughter. “Oh my god, her brain almost melted,” Emma whispered. “That was genius.”

“I know.” Killian set the flowers down on the coffee table, plucking out a peppermint stick and handing it to Emma with a flourish. “By the way ‘Graham’s’ sending you a Christmas hamper tomorrow too – minus the fruit cake of course because he knows you think it tastes like arse.”

Emma bit into her candy cane with a smug grin. “Every time a ‘suck-it’ bell rings, an angel gets its wings.” 

* * *

“Are you ready for this, Swan?”

“I was born ready.” Emma’s stoic expression transformed into one of delight as she whacked Killian’s arm “I’ve always wanted to say that!”

The two of them stood in front of Emma’s yellow Bug, duffel bags slung over their shoulders, while David, Mary Margaret, Robin, Regina, Ruby and Dorothy trampled their way through the snow into the luxurious cabin they were calling home for the weekend. The vacation spot belonged to Regina’s family and had been the scene of their group’s annual friend-mas getaway for the past few years.

This year, however, it would also be the place where Emma and Killian would endeavor to dodge every romance set-up known to mankind now their friends had reached Defcon 1. Thankfully they had David’s intel in their favor and had used the hour’s drive to cement their plans – a win for them, and a supposed win for their pals who had schemed to get them alone for the trip up. (“We need to drop Leo off at my parents!” Mary Margaret had said sweetly. “And the other four are already carpooling!”).

Brushing the snow off their boots at the entryway, Killian and Emma joined everyone in the living area where their eyes were immediately drawn to the police tape David was fastening over the fireplace.

“Who murdered Santa?” asked Emma, dumping her bags on the ground.

“The fireplace is a no-go zone, I forgot to inform everyone,” announced Regina. “My mother didn’t have the chimney cleaned in time, so unless you want to burn down the cabin don’t go near it,” she said, pursing her lips in disdain. “Feel free, however, to torch mother’s eyesore of a rug in the main bedroom; it’s hideous.”

Killian gave a sideways glance to Emma before offering Regina a curious look. “If you forgot to notify everyone then how did Sherriff Dave know to bring his tape?”

“Oh, I carry this thing everywhere,” David said with a chuckle, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Never know when you might need it.”

“I’m guessing in a few hours time when we all freeze to death,” said Emma, wrapping her arms around her body at the already-chilly temperature of the room.

“There’s some space heaters lying around, don’t worry,” Robin replied with a smile, linking his hand with Regina’s. “Come on, let’s go get unpacked in the rooms so we can _get this party started_.” He shook his head like he was disgusted with himself. “I really can’t pull that off can I.” 

Mary Margaret clasped her hands together, her saccharine smile bordering on conniving as she aimed it towards Emma and Killian. “Yes, about the room situation. It looks as though you guys will be sharing this year,” she said in a sorry-not-sorry tone of voice. “You’re both _such_ close friends, though, I’m sure you won’t mind.”

Usually Emma bunked with Ruby, and Killian had a room to himself while the couples paired up. But this year was the first time Ruby had brought a partner with her, which delighted Ruby in many ways if her shit-eating grin was anything to go by.

(“ _Bed sharing, of course,” Emma had scoffed in the car earlier. “That’s rom com 101 right there. I can just imagine their smug little faces like, ‘ooh they’ll probably wake up on top of one another, faces pressed close together, legs entwined all…’” She yelped when the car suddenly jolted to the side. “Woah, shit, did we hit some ice?”_

 _Killian cleared his throat and gave her a brief nod from the driver’s side. “Yes. Ice._ ”)

“Usually I wouldn’t mind but the lass snores like a freight train,” said Killian, jerking his thumb towards Emma, who gave an unapologetic shrug. “I can just take the couch.”

“But they’re lumpy and you’ll hurt your back,” Ruby blurted out, unsubtly nudging her girlfriend in the ribs. “Tell him, babe, you’re a doctor.”

Dorothy blushed slightly, throwing her a panicked look. “I’m a _vet_ , not quite the same thing, Rube. If you need neutering done, though, then I’m your girl,” she added with a nervous laugh before going an even deeper shade of red. “Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain of awkwardness,” she mumbled as Ruby rubbed her arm in solidarity.

“Killian will be fine,” said Emma. “He’s bunked down in Leo’s tiny bed before so if he can squeeze into that he can soldier through anything.”

“Problem solved then,” Killian said, reveling in the barely there disguised looks of annoyance on nearly everyone’s faces. “Now, in the poetic words of a wanker I know, let’s get this party started.”

* * *

Killian exited the bathroom and took a covert look down the hall to make sure everyone was otherwise occupied before knocking quietly on Emma’s bedroom door. He felt himself being yanked in by his green turtleneck sweater with the giant knitted reindeer on it, stumbling over his feet while Emma gently closed the door.

“Operation: Our Friends Are Assholes is kicking some serious butt right now,” Emma gloated, twirling around to high five Killian but dropping her hand mid-aim to gawk at his outfit. “It’s the Bridget Jones Mr. Darcy sweater,” she said in amazement, digging her phone out of her pocket to snap a few photos. “I can’t believe you listened to me and bought it.”

Killian tugged at the snug neckline with his finger. “Well I wasn’t about to wear the bloody wet shirt in this weather was I, Swan. Although I didn’t factor in the strangulation aspect.” His eyes flickered down to Emma’s apparel and he let out a snort of amusement. “Nice to see you’ve branched out this year.”

Emma laughed, gesturing her hand in front of herself in a ‘ta da!’ motion where she’d written ‘ugly sweater’ on a post-it and stuck it directly across from The Rock. “It’s too bad we’re only celebrating a mini version of the sweater party this year because I was really hoping to give my winner’s speech to a larger crowd, y’know?”

“Tell you what, how about I record it on my phone and post it to YouTube for all the masses to see?” said Killian, pretending to grumble when Emma ushered him in for a selfie. 

“As if you know how to work technology,” she mocked, squishing her face against his with a grin. She left her arm around his waist while she looked at the photo, chuckling at the way he’d crossed his eyes and drawn up his top lip to flash his teeth. “Who’s a handsome boy,” she cooed, tilting her head to look at him.

Killian smiled cheekily at her, reaching up to adjust the pompom on her Santa beanie so it fell forward on the right angle. “I prefer dashing rapscallion,” he replied, feeling her grip on his waist tense ever so slightly.

“Yeah, well I’ll be sure to contact your admirers back in the eighteen hundreds and let them know,” Emma said with a gentle scoff, licking her lips as she gazed at him. “…We better head out before they notice we’re missing,” she said finally, letting her arm fall from their embrace. “Don’t want to give them any extra ammo, right?” she joked.

“Right,” Killian nodded, scratching at the back of his ear. “Lead the way, Swan.”

“That’s ‘lead the way future trophy winner’ to you, chump.”

* * *

After a few hours of board games, charades and drinking, Emma and Killian were thrilled to see that their friends were seriously reconsidering their life choices in trying to pair them up for everything. They spent every moment pretending to argue with one another about pretentious word-usage in couples Scrabble (“ _What the fuck even is a zax?” – “It’s a tool, Swan._ ” – “You’re _a tool._ ”), to questionable mime choices (“ _Are you being electrocuted? Pretending to ride a horse? Is it Seabiscuit?” – “It’s Dirty Dancing you idiot!_ ”).

Ruby put an end to the proceedings by stealing David’s police tape from the fireplace and sloppily winding it around Emma and Killian’s bodies, declaring games night to be dead along with everyone’s Christmas boners.

“I know just the thing to get us back into the spirit of the season!” Mary Margaret declared, fetching a gift bag she’d hidden under the long wooden table. Pausing for dramatic effect, she hauled out the coveted ugly sweater party trophy to a round of enthusiastic applause and whistling.

Dorothy gave the prize an appraising onceover, taking in the gaudy Christmas baubles hanging off the handles and the red and green glitter spray painted all over it. “So as the resident first timer here, how do you actually win this beautiful specimen?”

“By popular vote,” said Emma, disentangling herself from the yellow tape and tossing it at Killian’s head. “Everyone writes down who they think has the ugliest sweater and then the winner’s chosen.”

“But you can’t vote for yourself,” added Killian, rolling the tape up into a ball. “Which is a crying shame because I am ‘hashtag on fleek’ right now.” His lips curled up in a smirk when he heard Emma bark out a laugh next to him. “Or is it hashtag blessed? I can never remember.”

“Hashtag ‘who’s the wanker now’ would be more apt I’d wager,” Robin retorted with a grin, gathering up a few empty beer bottles to take to the recycling bin.

Mary Margaret clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention. “And on that lovely festive note, let’s clean up and start voting!”

Supplied with fresh drinks and snacks, the group spread themselves out on the couches with blankets, the heaters not quite providing the same coverage the log fire would have. Emma dove under one with Mary Margaret before anyone could protest, claiming that her sister-in-law was the best human furnace. Killian held open his side of the blanket for David, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Climb aboard, mate,” Killian grinned. “I’m always up for a cuddle.”

David smirked, sliding in next to him and draping an arm over Killian’s shoulder. “You’ll be happy to know I just finished off the onion dip,” he said on a heavy exhale, nearly spilling his beer when Killian put a hand over his face to shove him away.

They each took it in turns to parade themselves around the room, showing off their sweaters, before the votes were cast and put into an old Tupperware container. Mary Margaret read them out in her best Jeff Probst impersonation but a problem soon became apparent. “We have a tie between Emma and Killian!”

“You guys should naked arm wrestle to find out the winner!” Ruby crowed, giving the pair a wolfish smile over the top of her eggnog.

“What about rock, paper, scissors?” David suggested.

Emma vehemently shook her head. “Nope, no way. Killian’s a freak at that.”

“That’s because, as your shirt so fittingly predicts, you always favor rock,” Killian replied. “Throw in a little paper every now and then, Swan. Give a man a thrill.”

“Naked coin toss!” Ruby called out, ignoring the other suggestions.

“May I suggest all unclothed activities take place on my mother’s rug so I have even more of a reason to burn it?” added Regina, pouring herself another healthy dollop of red wine.

“ _Naaaaaakeddddddd_.” 

“For the love of christ someone take the rum away from Ruby,” Emma said, burying her face in her hands with a laugh.

Killian put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Oi, you lot! I have an announcement to make,” he said, standing up to address the crowd. “As I have already had the pleasure of winning this fine trophy, I feel it’s only fair to bestow the honor upon Emma.” He picked up the trophy from its place on the coffee table and held it out to the blonde who was looking at him in surprise. “It’s clear to me that after many long-awaited years, you have finally – wait for it, this is a good one – _rocked_ our worlds.”

With an exuberant “hell yeah!” Emma bounded to her feet and took the award from Killian, grinning wildly. “It’s a Christmas miracle!” she exclaimed, holding the trophy aloft in the air like she’d just won an Oscar.

“Hold on a moment, _that’s it_?” Killian scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “That’s your brilliant winner’s speech?” He stepped forward to grab the trophy out of her hands. “I take it back, I think I should keep it.”

“Tough luck, reindeer games!” Emma retorted, her cheeks dimpling as she quickly ducked out of the way and shoved the prize under her sweater for safekeeping. She challenged Killian with a raise of her eyebrow and a smirk, silently daring him to move forward another pace.

Darting his tongue out between his teeth, Killian grinned and held out his hand in a fist. “Rock, paper, scissors?” he said cheerfully. 

“You know what you guys _could_ do…” a voice sang out.

“ _Ruby_!”

* * *

The night wore on with Christmas movies and popcorn until a chorus of yawning set the wheels in motion for bedtime. It was then that Killian and Emma realized they hadn’t accounted for one setback in their meticulous planning – there were four bedrooms and four space heaters, which meant Killian would be left to slowly freeze to death on the couch while he slept.

“I’ll be fine,” Killian reassured Emma, trying to shrug off the thought of turning into an ice block overnight. “There’s enough blankets to burrow myself in, and if all else fails I’ll start singing Let It Go and hope my ice powers emerge.”

Emma frowned at him, pretending not to notice Ruby and Mary Margaret hovering to hear their conversation while they cleaned up all the spilt popcorn. “Don’t be stupid you can’t sleep out here.”

“Well I’m not bunking in with Dave, his breath is terrible,” Killian joked.

“You can just sleep with me,” said Emma, feeling heat spread up the back of her neck at the startled look on Killian’s face and the snickering coming from actual five-year-olds Mary Margaret and Ruby. “You know what I mean,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Killian gave an imperceptible nod towards their friends. “Are you _sure_ , Swan?” he asked softly.

Emma nodded. “Yeah.” She shuffled forward in her blanket wrap and gave him a playful poke in the arm. “You’re the one who has to put up with me… what was it you said I did?” she pondered, tapping her chin. “Oh yeah, snore like a freight train.”

“It’s a cross I’m willing to bear, love.”

Killian changed into his flannel pajama pants and old white t-shirt in the bathroom, throwing his black hoodie on over the top for extra warmth. He padded down the darkened hallway to his room and closed the door behind him, finding Emma already snuggled underneath the covers.

Emma gave him a dim smile as he placed his neatly folded sweater and jeans on top of his duffel bag and climbed into his side of the bed. He switched off the lamp on the bedside table and turned over to face Emma who was lying with her body angled towards his. Killian could see the faint outline of her face where the moonlight shone through the slits in the curtains.

“Shall we build a wall of pillows in the middle like they do in the movies?” he said quietly, trying to alleviate the weirdly stifled mood. Killian relaxed when he heard Emma’s soft chuckle.

“Nah, that’ll just ruin the moment where I wake up draped over you like a sloth,” she murmured, tucking her hand under her chin. “There’ll probably be drool as well.”

“Very romantic.”

“I try.” They gazed at one another before Emma’s lips drew up in a shy smile. “Thank you for giving up the trophy tonight,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome, Swan.”

“The Rock thanks you too.”

“He is also most welcome.”

The space between them in the bed felt too unbearably close yet also stretched for miles.

“Night, Killian,” Emma mumbled, rolling over to face the wall.

Killian stared at the back of her head. “Goodnight, love.”

* * *

It was still dark when Killian woke up and noticed that Emma’s side of the bed was conspicuously empty. He touched his hand to the sheets, noting that she must have been up for a while judging by how cold they were. Straining his ears he could hear the faint sound of movement coming from the living area. He waited for a few moments, deciding to do a quick check in with her when she didn’t return.

The only light streaming into the front room was the moonlight from the bay window, where Killian found Emma burritoed in a thick blanket watching the snowflakes fall outside. He cleared his throat to announce his presence so as not to startle her and drew his hoodie over his head to ward off the chill. “You’ll catch your death out here,” he said, putting a pillow behind his back to lean on as he sat across from her.

Emma’s lips lifted in a half-hearted smile while she continued to stare outside. “I was coming back, I just… couldn’t sleep,” she said, pulling her blanket tighter.

“You look like a newborn swaddled up like that,” said Killian, tucking his arms around himself with a shiver.

She turned her head this time to look at him, noticing the way his hair stuck out from underneath his hood. “And you look like the evil half of the Kermit meme,” she shrugged. “So we’re both winning.”

They smirked at one another but Killian could sense that something was still off with Emma by the lack of bite in her tone. Wanting to cheer her up, Killian slid his foot forward to nudge her with his toes. “What’s say you and I really embrace our evil sides and open our presents now?”

The Secret Santa gifts were piled under the makeshift Christmas tree (a broken branch Robin had found outside earlier that they’d sat Emma’s Santa beanie on top of), ready for everyone to open together during lunch. But the thrill of disregarding the rules proved too tempting for Emma, who broke into a genuine smile and nodded her approval. “Yours is the one with ‘Happy Birthday’ on it,” she said sheepishly. “I forgot to buy Christmas paper.”

Killian gathered up both their presents from the tree near the front door, collecting a folded up blanket from the couch on his way back. He set the gifts down between them. “Ladies first,” he smiled, wearing his blanket like a cape before sitting down.

“No, you go first,” Emma insisted, chewing on her bottom lip. “Hopefully you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” said Killian, peeling back the taped edges. “Unless it’s something from IKEA in which case I’d much prefer a lump of coal.” He opened the paper to find a hardcover book of puns with a sticky note attached that read ‘DO NOT USE THESE ON ME ASSHOLE xxx Merry Christmas’. “Thank you, Swan,” Killian chuckled, but Emma was still nibbling on her lower lip.

“There’s, uh, something underneath too,” she said, reaching out her hand from her cocoon to take the book away.

Killian saw a small sketchbook and offered Emma an inquisitive smile as he flipped open the first page. “Swan…” he exhaled, his chest squeezing when he gazed upon the sketch she had drawn of a boat. The very same vision of a boat he’d been talking about buying and doing up for the past few years but had never gotten around to. “These are amazing, love,” he said in awe, turning over the pages to find more and more outlines. 

The blanket crumpled around Emma’s shoulder as she shrugged. “They’re pretty basic, my art skills are a little rusty these days,” she said. “But I thought this might push you into actually doing something about your dream.”

Killian’s smile broadened when he saw that she’d sketched out a nameplate with ‘The Jolly Roger’ on it. “This is brilliant, Swan. Absolutely brilliant.” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her warm cheek. “ _Thank you_.”

“Whatever,” she said, ducking her head. “Don’t go all gooey on me now.” She freed her other hand and reached forward to pick up her gift, expertly wrapped and tied with a red bow. “Show off,” she teased, undoing the ribbon before tearing open the paper. Emma cackled when she saw what was inside, clapping a hand over her mouth at how loud she was. “Just what I’ve always wanted,” she said, holding up a giant gold medallion covered in sparkles. ‘I build lots of shit’ was written in the middle in Killian’s cursive. 

“You definitely earned it, Swan,” said Killian. He rubbed at the back of his neck when she saw that there was a long envelope sitting underneath it.

Emma’s brow furrowed when she pulled out a piece of paper, her mouth dropping in shock when she realized it was a booking for two return flights to New York, plus hotel stays, for a few days after Christmas. “Killian…” she murmured, looking up at him in astonishment. “Wait, is this what the bookcase money went towards?”

“I thought you might like to see the tree at Rockefeller Center before it’s taken down,” Killian said, his face heating up. “And that extra ticket is for anyone you might like to bring along,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was forcing my company on you, I just thought…” His speech faded away when Emma lunged forward and crushed him in a hug.

“This is too much,” she said, mumbling into his shoulder. “This is way too much.”

Killian kept one arm wrapped around her middle and brought the other up to rest against her back. “Nonsense, Swan,” he said quietly. “You deserve it.”

Breathing out a wobbly sigh, Emma leaned back to look at him. She swallowed and shook her head. “You were snoring,” she said abruptly.

“Pardon?” Killian replied, not quite following the strange segue and feeling somewhat off kilter at her close proximity. He let his arms slide away from her when Emma sat back on her knees.

“That’s why I came out here, you were snoring,” Emma repeated.

Killian’s mouth ticked up in a smile. “It appears I’m not the only one with freight train tendencies.” His smile slipped away when Emma’s uneasiness didn’t disappear with his teasing. “I apologize, love.”

“No, that’s just it,” said Emma, huffing out an exasperated laugh. “I woke up and you were snoring, but it was this soft kind of snore,” she explained, screwing her nose up in fondness at the memory. “And you let out this little puff of air between your lips at the end of each one, and I just lay there staring at you like some creep thinking, ‘ _I could get used to this_ ’.” She took a deep breath and looked anywhere but Killian’s face. “So I ran. Because that’s not something friends are supposed to get used to.”

“… What if it was?”

Emma jerked her head back at the sound of Killian’s tentative voice, her heart jolting when she saw his hopeful expression. “Killian?” she said softly, keeping her eyes trained on his as he leaned in towards her.

Caressing the pad of his thumb over her cheek, Killian brushed his fingers into her hair and reverently curled them around the loose tendrils. Closing the infinitesimal space between them, he slowly pressed his lips to hers once, twice, three times. “I could get used to this too,” he said, responding to her smile against his mouth with his own.

“Just shut up and kiss me again already,” she murmured, surging forward to capture his top lip between hers. Emma fumbled around to slide the hoodie off his head so she could scratch her nails through his messy hair, hearing him hum in response.

Killian felt her tongue slide against his as he pulled her closer; inwardly cursing at the awkward angle they were both sitting. He could sense Emma was trying to unfold her legs and climb onto his lap when a shrill, delighted scream scared the absolute life out of both of them. They reluctantly tore their lips apart, blinking harshly at the sudden onslaught of an overhead light flooding the room.

Ruby stood near the switch in her pajamas, jumping up and down at the sight of her two friends entangled with one another. “IT’S ABOUT FUCKING TIME!” she whooped, laughing when Emma buried her face in Killian’s shoulder. “GUYS, WAKE UP! CODE RED! SANTA’S COME EARLY!” she called down the hall before bounding over to the duo with a wink. “That’s what she said.”

“Bloody hell,” Killian muttered, swapping a long-suffering smile with Emma as they sat next to one another to await the rest of the firing squad. He laced his fingers with Emma’s and gave her hand a squeeze.

Mary Margaret and David were out first, shit eating grins lighting up both of their sleepy faces, followed by Dorothy, Robin and Regina. They all crowded around the bay window like Emma and Killian were the latest attraction at the zoo.

“What happened?” Mary Margaret beamed, tightening the tie on her fluffy robe. “How did it happen? Give us all the details.”

David winced, holding up a hand in placation. “Not too many details, OK.”

“How about no details and you can all bite me?” Emma retorted, flipping them the bird with the hand not currently latched on to Killian’s.

“ _Was_ there biting?” Ruby asked, laughing when Dorothy pinched her ribs. “OK, I’ll calm down. I’m just happy the mistletoe got put to good use.”

“Mistletoe?” Killian echoed, tilting his head back. He groaned when he saw the offending plant hanging above them, which had definitely not been there earlier in the evening.

“We basically planted it _everywhere_ ,” Ruby shrugged.

Emma glared at her brother. “Gee, thanks for the heads up on that one, buddy,” she said, her mouth curving into a smirk of retaliation before delivering the kill shot. “ _Some double agent you are_.” She waited along with Killian for the gasps of outrage and shock but everyone was remaining suspiciously chill. Amused even. “OK maybe I didn’t make myself clear – David’s been telling me and Killian about all of your plans to set us up so we could ruin them.”

“Oh, honey,” Mary Margaret said sympathetically, reaching her hand out to pat Emma on the head. “We already know.”

Killian exchanged a wary glance with Emma. “What do you mean you lot already know?”

“The charming one told us about your little blackmail scheme when it first started and we’ve been using it to our advantage ever since,” Regina said, her lips curling up in a self-satisfied sneer.

“We basically pulled off the one where everybody finds out and Friends-ed you,” added Ruby, rubbing her hands over her arms to keep warm.

“They don’t know that we know that they know,” Robin supplied helpfully. “Worked a treat.”

Mary Margaret nodded, her nose crinkling as she giggled. “Every time you plotted against us it just meant you were spending more time together, which is all we wanted in the first place.” 

Emma’s mouth open and shut in protest. “But… but what about the blackmail threat?” she whined to David. “You’re a Hallmark hoe!”

“And proud of it,” David retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your idea of blackmail needs a serious overhaul, guys, it was pretty weak. I’ve got half the crew at the station hooked on the channel.”

“It’s true,” said Mary Margaret, linking her arm through her husband’s. “Leroy and August were at our place the other night for a movie marathon.”

Killian shook his head. “So all that horror and indignation whenever Swan and I went against your careful planning…”

“Acting dah-ling,” Ruby answered, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “I’ve been Meryl Streep-ing my ass off the past couple weeks. I mean does this ring any bells?” She drew her hands up to her face and gasped. “Oh my god, Graham?! You’re seeing other people?! Oh nooooo… And, _scene_ ,” she said, dropping into a curtsy.

Emma bit her tongue so she wouldn’t laugh, nearly breaking when she heard a quick snort coming from Killian. “You’re all officially the worst and we hate your guts,” she quipped.

“We love you too,” Mary Margaret replied in a sing-song voice. She dropped her arm from David’s so she could shuffle forward and engulf Emma and Killian in a hug. “We only wanted you both to see what was right in front of you and take that leap of hope,” she said, giving them a tight squeeze. She drew back to beam at them. “And you did!”

“Yes, and it only took five short years,” Robin said flatly.

“With yearning looks and doe-y eyes,” added Regina.

David grinned at Emma’s scoffing. “Did we mention the five years part?”

“I offered to trap you both in a room like Saw about four years ago but they wouldn’t let me,” said Ruby.

Dorothy observed Killian and Emma squirming in their seats and tentatively raised her hand. “Can the newbie make a suggestion?” she asked, continuing when Ruby nodded at her. “Crazy thought, but maybe we should give these two some space to digest what just happened without the peanut gallery chiming in?” 

Killian broke into a grin, giving her a thumbs up. “The lass has a brilliant point and is officially my new favorite person,” he said, shooing everyone away. “Sod off back to bed the lot of you.”

“But we wanna keep mocking you,” Ruby pouted.

“And I want a trap door to open up and swallow me whole but we’re all fresh outta luck tonight,” Emma retorted, pointing her finger towards the bedrooms. “Go. Now.”

The group reluctantly started to disband and traipse their way towards the hall, with threats of more gloating to come in the morning.

“At least we can light the fireplace tomorrow now this charade is over,” Regina muttered loudly as Robin draped an arm over her shivering shoulders. “I still don’t see why we had to suffer and pretend it was clogged up just to make them suffer.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” David boasted off Emma and Killian’s incredulous looks. “We’re that damn good. Hallmark hoe, out,” he said, dropping a pretend mic and throwing up a peace sign.

Emma and Killian stared after their friends retreating figures in silence. “We played ourselves so bad,” said Emma, turning to face Killian. Her lips pressed together in a firm line before she burst into a fit of laughter along with him.

Killian felt a warmth spread inside his chest when Emma dropped her head against his shoulder. “That we did, Swan,” he chuckled. “But the end result was pretty good, wouldn’t you agree?”

Emma’s giggling subsided as she lifted her head to gaze fondly at him. She stroked her hand across his beard, smiling when he leaned into her touch. “I can’t complain so far.” She pressed her forehead to his and nuzzled at his nose. “I just have one question,” she said, licking her lips before nudging forward to kiss him.

“What’s that, Swan,” he murmured against her mouth.

“I need a partner for Operation: New York City,” she grinned. “You in?”

“With you, love? Always.”


End file.
